by Lisa Jackson
Calling herself a fool, she walked up the flagstones leading to the courtyard and tried to bolster her wavering confidence. Don’t let all of this overwhelm you, she cautioned herself. Remember that he’s only a man. Ah, yes, her worried mind tossed back at her, but a man who wants the one thing you have: Festival Productions!
Maren couldn’t ignore the fact that Kyle wanted very much to own Festival Productions and, for that matter, herself as well. He knew that she was the artistic force behind Festival, and there was no doubt that he would do just about anything in his power to entice Maren into selling him her production company. More than anything, she had to keep a level head while in his company. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of trusting him completely, because she understood his motives. How much of his affection for her was sincere and how much was just a part of the game? Was his interest in her merely a well-rehearsed act carefully planned to seduce her into selling Festival? She wanted desperately to believe that he really did care for her, but her common sense instructed her to tread warily.
After stiffening her backbone, she pressed the doorbell and braced herself for another meeting with him. Poise and control were the order of the day. Why then was her pulse racing in anticipation?
Lydia was gone for the weekend and Kyle had awaited Maren’s arrival impatiently, watching the clock as the slow hours passed and cursing himself for his own impetuosity. Right now, the last thing he needed cluttering his life was an entanglement with Maren McClure. Why then was he so anxious to see her again?
There was something damnably seductive about that woman. It had captivated him last night and ruined his sleep. He had lain awake for hours, frustrated by urges he hadn’t felt in years. It was as if he were compelled to see her again, forced to confront her. He only hoped that the frustration would soon end; that they would become lovers and his lust for her would be satisfied. It would be better for everyone involved if his fascination for her would die a quick death. A quick affair would serve his purpose. He could convince Maren to sell out Festival to Sterling Recording Company, satisfy his physical needs and then be back on track. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman. Maybe that was his problem.
The chimes alerted him of Maren’s arrival. Without realizing it, he smiled and the deep furrows of concentration that had lined his brow softened. He opened the door and stared into Maren’s incredible blue eyes. Sunlight filtered through the fronds of the palm tree and caught in the dark strands of her hair, streaking the rich auburn color with fiery bursts of burnished gold.
Kyle’s smile broadened to touch his eyes as he wedged himself between the heavy door and the wall. “So you made it,” he greeted.
“Were you afraid I wouldn’t find the place, it being so small and all?” she returned, showing off just the hint of a seductive dimple.
He cocked an appreciative dark brow. “I try to keep things simple,” he responded with a hearty laugh. Moving out of the doorway, he pushed the door open and silently invited her inside. “I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted, with only a trace of reluctance. His knowing gray eyes were warm and tempting. “I assume you’re planning to stay…”
“I don’t think that would be wise.”
“Why not?”
It was difficult dissuading him. He noticed the hesitation in her eyes. “You are having second thoughts.”
“Maybe. I’d prefer to think of it as considering all of the alternatives and carefully deciding what’s the best course of action.”
“Boardroom double-talk,” he muttered as he motioned her inside the house. “Are you always so…poised and careful, Ms. McClure?” he asked as he followed her inside the hacienda and closed the door behind him. That single action seemed to cut the two of them off from the rest of the world.
Maren managed to hide her unease with a composed smile. “I’d like to think that I am,” she replied, ignoring the sarcastic bite to his words. “And I would think that you, above all people, would understand my caution, and appreciate it.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t understand, not at all.”
She paused for a moment, waiting until her eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the interior, and hoping that she could somehow convey her feelings to him. It seemed important that he understand her.
Once inside the plushly carpeted sunken living room, Maren turned to face the solitary man who made this estate his home. “I don’t know you very well,” Maren conceded, cocking her head and letting her hair fall away from her face. “In fact, I wasn’t sure that you would be here, alone…or that you would meet me at the door. I really didn’t know what to expect.” The expression on Kyle’s face was still puzzled, and Maren realized that she wasn’t making much sense. She started over.
“Look, Kyle, I know that you run with a pretty fast crowd.” His thick brow quirked, indicating that he had heard her. The rest of his face was set in an intent expression as he regarded her silently, patiently waiting for her to continue with her explanation. Fascinating slate-colored eyes held her stare.
“And you don’t…run with a fast crowd?”
“Right. I’m a little…no, make that very uneasy with the idea of spending a weekend with a man whom I barely know, and a business associate to boot. I’m not like Mitzi Danner or any of those other glamorous Hollywood types who change lovers as easily as they change shampoos.” She shook her head and held her palms skyward in a supplicating gesture. “I’m not apologizing for my sense of values, but I thought you should know that this sort of thing is just too casual for me—not my style…”
“Thank God,” he murmured, obviously relieved and slightly amused. The laughter in his eyes fueled her unexpected anger.
“I don’t even really know what I’m doing here,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have agreed to come and should have told you to put the briefcase in the mail!”
“What is it that you’re afraid of? Is it me—or men in general?” he asked.
“Fear has nothing to do with this—”
“I think it has everything to do with it,” he argued, his eyes darkening dangerously. “The conflicting signals I get from you lead me to believe that something about me scares you—more than just a little. Now it could be that I intimidate you because I own Sterling Records and Festival strongly depends on its relationship with my company,” he suggested calmly. “Or, it might be that you’re afraid of any kind of relationship with a man, because you let yourself get involved in a bad relationship in the past.”
“Or it could be,” she said loftily, “that all my instincts tell me that spending a weekend with you might end up to be one monumental mistake!” Unwanted scarlet crept up her neck. “I’m not afraid of you…but I’m not…easy, either, and I’m not comfortable with the idea of spending a weekend with a man I don’t know. Is that so hard to understand?”
Impatience flashed in his eyes. “Damn it, woman,” he whispered as he shook his head in disbelief. “How many times do I have to tell you that I like your ‘style’?” After crossing the room, he reached for her and traced the ridges between her wrist and fingers with his strong hand. He captured her gaze in the warmth of his stormy gray eyes.
She was still wary. “Does my ‘style’ include my production company?” she whispered. “Isn’t that what you really like about me?”
A muscle near the back of his jaw began to tighten and his eyes bored into hers. “I admit that I’m interested in Festival Productions. You know it, and I haven’t tried to hide the fact. I thought I put my cards on the table last night. I’m very interested in your production company.” She was about to interrupt but he held a finger to her lips. “But that is not the reason that I invited you down here.”
“But on the phone you said—”
“It doesn’t matter what ploy I used to get you here.” He saw the argument forming in her eyes and warded it off. “It won’t change things to accuse me of being underhanded,” he warned with a rakish grin. “I’ve heard it before.” He t
ook both of her hands in his, forcing her to face him squarely. “I don’t want to get involved with you any more than do you with me, but it seems to be in the cards, wouldn’t you say?”
Gently he kissed her palm. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip at the intimacy of the gesture and her heart began to beat in a syncopated rhythm. “I just hope the deck isn’t stacked against me.”
Again his eyes drilled into hers. “Would I do that?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” she replied, her voice becoming ragged. He was getting to her, just as surely as if she had willingly let him in to her heart.
“Let’s not argue,” Kyle suggested, releasing her hand. “I’ve had enough of that for one day.”
Maren was perplexed. “From me?” The sudden tensing of his body warned her that she was prying into forbidden territory.
His gaze clouded. “No.” He didn’t elaborate and Maren didn’t press him. The private battles he was fighting were none of her business and she knew intuitively that the less she became entwined in the personal aspects of Kyle Sterling’s life the better. “Can I offer you a drink?” he asked abruptly, effectively changing the subject. When she nodded, he strode over to an ornately carved wooden sideboard that had been converted into a bar.
While Kyle was mixing the drinks, Maren took the time to examine the living room. It was expansive, with an open-beamed ceiling rising a full two floors. A polished tile floor was covered with a tightly woven cream-colored carpet. The furnishings were modern pieces in variegated hues of brown and rust with clean, strong lines. A bank of tall windows facing west opened to a commanding view of the restless azure Pacific Ocean. A few potted plants were casually arranged near the heavier pieces of furniture and watercolors of dusky mountain ridges adorned the walls.
When Kyle turned his attention back to Maren, she was struck by his overwhelming masculinity. She suspected that it wasn’t an image he attempted to cultivate, but the power surrounding him couldn’t be disguised. He was dressed in faded blue jeans and an open-throated shirt. His arms were bare and bronzed, and when he handed her a glass of amber liquor, his arms flexed to display lean, corded muscles that moved smoothly under his dark skin. He was more ruggedly sensual than any man Maren had ever met, and he wore his masculinity with a pride and near arrogance that fascinated the woman deep within her. Though she tried to think of him as the opposition and not as a man, she found it impossible.
“Is brandy all right?”
“Fine,” she responded, taking the glass. “I try to keep things simple, just like you.” She was rewarded with his amused smile. His eyes were warm and seemed to caress her skin. For an awkward moment there was silence. She sipped the drink before motioning toward the watercolors. “Did you do those?”
His smile broadened. “’Fraid not. My artistic ability is limited to a twelve-string guitar.”
“And sheet music.”
“Some people would beg to differ on that point.”
She smiled and relaxed a little. “But they couldn’t argue with your success.”
He seemed about to say something, but thought better of it. His eyes became guarded. “That was a long time ago,” he whispered.
Realizing that she had touched a sensitive nerve, Maren changed the subject and forced her attention back to the watercolors. The brandy slid easily down her throat as she concentrated on the varied hues of purple and blue. She inclined her head in the direction of the most distinctive work of art. “Do you know the artist?”
Kyle shrugged. “Not really. I met him once and liked his work. He was working on a series of watercolors of the Blue Ridge near the town where I was born. I bought the entire series.”
“So this is where you grew up?” Maren asked, eyeing the pictures with new interest.
Kyle corrected her. “You might think so if you listened to my agent for very long. He seemed to like to perpetuate the old rags-to-riches story about a good ol’ boy from the Blue Ridge.”
Maren focused her attention back on the man. “Isn’t that the way it happened?”
“Not exactly…you see, my parents moved out here when I was pretty young. I’ve been a Californian ever since. My agent and my manager didn’t think having a client from southern California was nearly as interesting as a genuine country boy from the South. My agent thought it would add to my…image. I went along with him.”
“And it worked. You convinced the record-buying public that you were the real thing.”
“I was. What did it matter where I grew up? They wanted country songs—and that’s what I gave them. That’s the business we’re in, Ms. McClure, or have you forgotten?” He drained his drink and set the glass on a nearby table. “There are a lot of things about me that you don’t know—or maybe even have misconstrued. Why don’t you take a chance and get to know me better? Stay with me.”
He was standing only inches from her. The warmth of his body seemed to touch her skin. “I try not to make a practice of taking chances,” she said softly, never letting her gaze waver from his. “They could become dangerous.”
“And you’re trying to convince me that you aren’t attracted by risk?” he asked dubiously. Before she could respond, he continued. “Don’t bother to waste your breath. No woman could have achieved what you have without taking a few gambles along the way.”
“And the chances I have taken didn’t include sleeping with someone to get what I wanted.” She tilted her head upward, daring him to pursue the subject.
“I know that. Neither have I.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “No female executive ever got you in a compromising position?” she asked.
“Not until now.”
Maren’s heart seemed to skip a beat. When she raised her glass to her lips, her hands were trembling. There was something disturbing in his quiet gaze and in an instant she realized just how desperately he wanted her. “This is very difficult for me,” she admitted, her voice suddenly rough.
“That makes two of us.”
The air between them was tense. Maren knew that if Kyle were to touch her, she would fall willingly into his arms. She wanted to believe that his desire for her was more than just physical; she needed to know that there was more involved than lust. The idea of spending the night with a man she barely knew made her uneasy. Things were moving much too rapidly, and it was difficult to keep her feelings for Kyle in perspective.
“I think there are a few things we should get straight,” Maren volunteered as Kyle shifted and walked toward the fireplace. He rubbed the back of his neck as if to erase the tension developing between his shoulder blades.
“Ground rules?” He captured her with his questioning gray eyes.
Her smile was frail. “I suppose you might call them that,” Maren allowed.
“Okay, shoot.” He leaned against the rough stones of the fireplace and crossed his arms over his chest. The fabric of his shirt strained against the muscles of his shoulders and back. One foot was poised on the raised hearth. Maren noticed that his thigh muscle was tightening. Kyle’s pose was obviously seductive, and Maren wondered if it were spontaneous or contrived.
“I talked to my lawyer today,” Maren began.
His gaze never faltered. No trace of emotion threatened to distort the even features of his face “And?”
“She advised me—”
“She?” he interrupted. His jaw tightened and his eyes seemed to darken dangerously.
“Elise Conrad. My attorney.” Maren could read the suddenly wary look crossing his eyes. “This is the nineteen eighties, Kyle. There are such things as female lawyers.” For a reason she couldn’t define, Maren felt defensive.
“Don’t I know,” Kyle returned evasively. He lowered his hand to his knee, still keeping his gaze fixed on Maren. “What did this woman, pardon me, your attorney, suggest?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Elise said that you should give me a firm offer for Festival in writing, and that I shouldn’t sign anything until sh
e has had the chance to go over it.”
‘Sounds like an attorney,” Kyle muttered angrily.
“It sounds fair.”
“Then I guess you’d better tell me exactly what you want for your business,” he decided aloud. “And I’ll want a full financial report on Festival. Then you’d better determine whatever other terms you want: cash outright or contract? Employment agreement? Anything else. I think my attorney will insist upon them.” His face had hardened menacingly and in a fraction of an instant Maren witnessed a transformation in Kyle. One minute he was a sensitive man intent on seducing a woman, the next he was a ruthless executive bent on only one thing: getting what he wanted for his company.
“You act as if this transaction might get a little vicious.”
He shook his head and frowned. “You’re the one who brought in an attorney,” he reminded her.
“You expected me not to?” She was incredulous. “What kind of an idiot do you take me for?”
His frown disappeared as he gazed into her eyes. “I think of you as a lot of things,” he admitted. “But an idiot? Never! I hope that we can accomplish the purchase of Festival without shedding too much blood, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
“Are you always so calculating?”
‘Only when I have to be, and I’d say that with you, as far as business is concerned, I’m going to have to be careful—damn careful.”
“And that bothers you?” she guessed.
He lifted his shoulders and shook his head. “Not really. I just don’t want to spend the rest of the weekend arguing about dollars, cents and Festival Productions.”
“No?” Cocking her head to the side, she smiled, showing the flash of even white teeth. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what it is you want to do?” There was an alluring invitation in her seductive indigo gaze.
Though Kyle was several feet from her, she felt as it they were nearly touching. His eyes caressed her and held her gaze in an intimate and familiar embrace. As he rose and crossed the room, Maren felt her heart begin to pound mercilessly in her chest. His masculinity unnerved her; his self-assured power disturbed her equilibrium. “I just want the chance to get to know you…” he replied, reaching her and touching her shoulders lightly. The warmth of his fingers permeated the light fabric of her linen jacket, leaving a torrid imprint on her skin. “Why can’t you understand that?”